


A Work of Art

by justme133



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Modern Day Setting, Reddie, eddie is always there for him, richie finds out he has a hidden talent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 22:11:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13304355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justme133/pseuds/justme133
Summary: Everyone knew when you hit 10th grade at Derry High School, you had two choices of electives - art, or music. One semester you took these, the other, you took gym (Richie wanted to avoid that as long as possible).  Richie fucking loved music - that was what his whole life was about! But when he went to sign up for the class, it was full.So he had to take fucking art instead.Fucking. Art.





	A Work of Art

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so if this seems kind of off center, I wrote this on two different computers. I hope it turns out okay.

 

 

 

Everyone knew when you hit 10th grade at Derry High School, you had two choices of electives - art, or music. One semester you took these, the other, you took gym (Richie wanted to avoid that as long as possible).  Richie fucking loved music - that was what his whole life was about! But when he went to sign up for the class, it was full.

So he had to take fucking art instead.

Fucking. Art.

Richie had never bothered trying at art, so why would he now? He sat in the class, listening as the teacher discussed something about making straight lines. Who couldn’t draw a fucking line? He was so bored as it was, that he was about to take out his phone and text Eddie to annoy him in gym, when the teacher said something that finally caught his attention.

“Now, I know most of this seems very basic. Art class usually is - people have been drawing before many of us could even talk. Which is why we’re changing it up this semester. Today, since it is the first day, we will continue to cover the basics. The rest of the semester though, we will be working on a project. Each student will pick a subject of your choice - be it a person, a place, or even a thing - and you must draw it, paint it, color it.” She walked over to a pallet that had a large piece of paper on it. “This is the size that you must create. I will provide everything you need, except your muse. And then, after they are graded, I will take the top three,  _ from all of my classes _ , and they will be presented in an art show at the museum for the Christmas holidays. Each student who does get featured in this art show, will also win a gift card for either the movie theater, a local restaurant, or the Christmas carnival.”

Richie perked up at that - he liked winning free things. But he didn’t have any art talent - he could draw a line, sure, or maybe a 3D box, but that was about it.

Fuck, what would he even draw? Or paint, or whatever?

“Now, these don’t need to made from memory. If you have a photo you love - a beloved pet, a family member, a favorite place - and would like to use that, then use it! If you don’t have a physical photo - I know how popular everything digital is these days, you can email me the photo, and I will print it for you.” She then wrote her teacher email address on the board. Richie found himself writing it down before he pulled out his phone. He took pictures all the time. There had to be something there he could use.

He scrolled through his photos, most of them from the summer with his friends. There was Bill dumping a bucket of water on Stan, Mike and Ben racing bikes, Eddie sitting under a big tree reading a book…

He looked up at the teacher’s email address on the board again and quickly sent an attachment from his phone.

He could do this. To win free stuff, he could do  _ anything _ .

…

After the first week of school, Richie took home a large pad of paper - “I make mistakes a lot, I need a lot of paper,” he had told the teacher, who had just laughed and handed it over - a pack of charcoal pencils, a large eraser, and a case of acrylic paints. The picture he had chosen was snug in his jacket pocket.

He would never admit this to his friends, but he actually was kind of looking forward to this project. He wasn’t sure it would be good, because he didn’t have an artistic bone in his body, but fuck, he’d try.

…

His friends began to notice in little details that something was distracting Richie. They all got into music, and the ones who didn’t, like Eddie and Ben, were in gym, so they didn’t know about the art project. 

Richie was there in a sense - he flirted with Eddie, who punched him in the shoulder when he got too close. He tossed Beverly over his shoulder as they walked down to the quarry. He teased Bill when his stutter got too bad. He challenged Mike and Ben to arm wrestling contests at the same time and lost of course. He quizzed Stan on fake bird species until he smacked him upside the head with his bird book. 

All in all, Richie was there. But he wasn’t. Eddie noticed first, of course. Richie would be quieter than usual, his mind seeming to be off on something else, only coming back when Eddie would place a hand on his leg to get his attention.

But even Eddie couldn’t keep his attention all the time. He found himself focusing on the art project, which he hoped was going to be awesome. He looked at Eddie, who smiled at him, and fuck, his heart sped up.

He hoped it was worth it all in the end.

…

The semester seemed to pass in a whirlwind. Now, it was winter, school would be out in a week, and Richie was bringing his completed project back to art class. 

The teacher was ecstatic when she saw it.

“Oh Richard, I never knew you had such talent,” she said, beaming at him. Richie blushed under her gaze - teachers never complimented him on anything; had he found something he was good at? “Not to be a spoilsport,” she began, making Richie deflate a bit, “but this is definitely going into the art show!” Richie couldn’t believe it.

“But… are you fucking serious?”

“Very,” she said, not even scolding him for cussing. “But you need a title for it.” Richie looked at his painting and nodded. She handed him a little white card and a pen. “Pick something that really speaks about this painting,” she said, walking away to check on the other students’ work. Richie looked at his painting before he looked at the card. He briefly remembered a song that had played when they had been around Mike’s grandparents, and his heart constricted again as he realized if he did this, he would be letting out all those pent up feelings he had been hiding.

He stuck the card in front of  the painting and walked out of the class.

He’d wait for the art show to show his friends what he could do.

…

Richie was dressed as nicely as he was going to get - he was wearing a wrinkled button down with the sleeves pushed up, and his only pair of jeans that didn’t have holes in it. He saw his friends approach, all looking much more put together than he did.

They all gathered around him, bombarding him with questions.

“Why are we at a museum?”

“Yeah why did you ask us to meet you here?”

“And to dress so snazzy?”

“Are you okay?” This question caught his attention as he looked at Eddie, who smiled at him reassuringly.

“I’m great guys, really. Y'all ain’t got a’nothin’ to worreh about meh,” he said in a terrible southern accent, making his friends groan. Yeah, he was okay.

Everyone got quiet when the lights dimmed, and spotlights lit up three separate pedestals covered with sheets. Richie watched as his art teacher stepped up to a microphone that had been propped up.

“Thank you everyone for attending this year’s Christmas Art Show. Tonight we have three special pieces from three talented students from Derry High.” Richie tuned her out as she revealed the first two art pieces - of course his would be last. He watched as the other students - some senior girl and some junior guy who were in advanced art classes - the girl had down a bowl of kittens, and the guy had done the cityscape of Derry - went up there and talked about their projects and got their gift cards. His breathing began to speed up, when he felt a smaller hand slip into his.

Eddie. Eddie was smiling at him, that reassuring smile that only he could do. Eddie had realized what was going on. 

“You’ve got this Trashmouth,” he whispered, dropping Richie’s hand as he pushed him forward. Richie nodded and met  his teacher, who smiled at him before her eyes moved to Eddie, who had come to stand in the front of the group. She looked back at Richie and whispered to him.

“You ready?”

“Ready,” he said, watching as she took the sheet off to reveal the picture.

He didn’t have to look to see that Eddie was probably close to a panic attack.

…

Eddie realized it when the first painting was revealed. Richie had taken art instead of music, and somehow, he had made such a fantastic piece of art that it was being shown  _ at the museum _ . He was so proud of Richie that it made his heart ache. 

As Richie stood up there, and his painting was revealed, Eddie felt like he would collapse.

It was  _ him _ . Richie had painted  _ him. _ He was sitting under a large tree, wearing his favorite red shirt and khaki shorts, his legs crossed and a book in his lap. He remembered that day. It was right before summer ended - he had wanted to finish that book before school started back up, and they were out at the quarry, playing like they always did, but he had been reading.

He didn’t even know Richie had taken a picture of him, but the picture up in the top corner was him, and Richie had done an  _ amazing _ job.

He met Richie’s eyes as he stood up at the microphone to speak about his painting.

“This was my first time ever doing something artsy,” he started, sounding so much more serious than they had ever heard him. “When we were given this assignment, I wasn’t sure if I could do this. But with the right inspiration,” he said, his eyes landing on Eddie again, who blushed and ducked his head, “I guess I can do anything. For my painting, I present to you….” He paused, taking a deep breath, “my painting, ‘Eddie My Love.’” Richie stepped away and was given a gift card to the movies, and then an extra one to the carnival. The teacher winked at him and he smiled at her before he turned to look at his friends.

Eddie was gone.

…

It was the words ‘Eddie My Love’ that made him bolt. Tears began to fall as he collapsed on a bench outside.

Richie… Did Richie love him? Was that even possible? There was something between them, sure, but  _ love _ ? Eddie was 15! He didn’t know anything about love!

Well… that wasn’t entirely true. He knew he loved his friends, and he supposed he loved his mother. But the love that Richie meant… it was something else, wasn’t it?

He felt it in his chest, the way his heart ached whenever Richie was near.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, wiping his eyes, which was pointless - he was still crying. 

He heard footsteps, and didn’t need to look up to know who was here.

“Eds. Babe?” He said softly, and Eddie sniffled a bit before he looked up at him. Richie kneeled down to Eddie’s sitting height - since his tall gangly ass was a good foot taller than him to begin with - and slowly reached for Eddie’s face. “I… I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said softly, and Eddie hiccuped before he smiled.

“Where’s Richie, and what did you do with him?” This Richie was being so kind, it made Eddie more nervous than normal Richie did. He shouldn’t have said anything though, because now Richie’s eyes lit up in that mischievous glint Eddie knew so well before he stood up, pulling Eddie up and into his arms, carrying him bridal style. “What the hell are you doing?!” Richie just laughed as Eddie struggled against him.Once they were out of the sight of the museum, Richie dropped Eddie onto the ground.

“Ow,” he said, eyes hard as stared at Richie, who plopped onto the ground next to him.

“Eds-” Eddie just stopped Richie right there with a swift kiss to the lips - it was awkward, because even sitting Richie was taller than him, but they managed somehow, and when they pulled away, Eddie rested his head on his shoulder. 

“You using those gift cards with me, right?”

“Well unless you want me to take Mike on a date. I’ve seen the way he’s been eyeing me.” Eddie laughed as he knocked Richie onto his back. 

“Fuck you.”

“Well at least let me buy you dinner first.”

Eddie grinned at him and tilted his head.

“You promise?”

“On fucking you? Oh yeah.” Eddie hit him again and Richie just laughed. “I promise to take you on the best date of our life.”

“Our life?”

“Oh yeah. I just told you how I feel. You’re never getting rid of me now.”

….


End file.
